The Deepest Scars Are Those You Cannot See
by vuarapuung
Summary: What the Carrows did to her would not easily be forgotten


They were standing over her, cackling with glee. She could almost make out their laughter, and she knew they were shouting at her, but she couldn't make it out. The pain was too intense to hear, it clouded all of her thoughts, tearing at every fibre of her. Parts of her she didn't know she had were now in unbearable agony.

Then, without warning, the pain just stopped. She gasped and panted for air, and as the pain seeped out of her body she noticed how sore her throat felt – she must have been screaming under the torture, although she hadn't even noticed it. She tried to force herself up onto all fours, but her arms and legs were shaky. It took her several moments to rise a little.

Then a heavy blow caught her upper back, like a boot. She heard them howl with laughter, and the only reply she could muster was to whimper with pain. She wondered how much longer she could survive this.

"Where is he?" he man asked her. They had asked this question before, and she knew she had spat back in his face. But after the torture she was so shaken it took a moment for thought to return to her head. _Who was he?_

Of course, _he_ was Harry. They always asked her, although they knew that she had no idea. But that was not important. What was important to her was that they knew she would never tell them even if she did.

"B – b – b -," she stammered, trying to regain control of her voice, but her vocal chords were slow to respond.

"The Burrow?" the woman asked. "That's where the filthy Muggle-lovers live, isn't it? Is that what you mean, pet?"

_Pet?_ She felt a rush of anger at that word.

"Bite me," she said more confidently, looking up into their faces. They did not look surprised – if anything, they looked almost pleased.

"Oh, we'll get to that, my lovely," the man promised. "But first, I must let my sister have her fun."

"_Crucio_," the woman cackled.

And so they continued, perhaps for minutes, maybe even hours or days. It was impossible to keep track of it all as her body became a vessel for the pain. Every time they would push her past the limit before bringing her back. Every time they would ask the same questions and, although each time it took her a little longer to remember, she would give the same answers.

Once again they stopped their torture, and she found herself unable this time to even prop herself up on her elbows. She just lay on the cold floor and struggled to draw every breath – every aching breath that clawed at her swollen throat.

She felt a hot breath on the back of her neck. The real torture was just beginning. Now it was _his _turn.

She felt a hand snake around her waist and pull her into a warm body. She could not cry out, but she struggled against his grip and tried to squirm out. Her body had been weak before, but suddenly it seemed so much stronger -

"Ginny! What's wrong? Are you alright?"

She gasped and looked around in a panic. She was not in the Muggle Studies classroom, as she had previously thought. She was in her bed, at home. Her husband, Harry, had turned the lights on, apparently concerned at her sudden movement. Now he was looking at her with fear in his eyes.

"Nothing," she said. "Just, I – er – I had a bad dream," she said. He nodded in understanding, having had his own share of bad dreams in the past.

"If you need to talk about it," he began.

"No, it's fine," she said quickly. "It's silly. Just a silly dream, really." She waved nonchalantly. "Go back to sleep."

"If you're sure," Harry replied. He turned off the lights and they snuggled up under the covers. Harry seemed to quickly fall back to sleep. She was curled up beside him, his breath still on the back of her neck and his arm back around her waist. She closed her eyes, and for a moment his breath felt hot and ragged, his arm was larger, more forceful and she was pained to the ground, gasping and sobbing. Her eyes shot wide open again and she starred into the darkness of their bedroom.

"Just a dream," she whispered again, though less surely this time.


End file.
